


(Not) Alone at the Top

by Lady_Lavender



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everyone is bad with emotions, Father/Son Incest, Incest, M/M, Nero and Vergil have suspicions and don't want to talk about them, Vergil is bad at being human, grudging allies to friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-01-25 15:11:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18577027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Lavender/pseuds/Lady_Lavender
Summary: After being killed by his brother on Mallet Island, Vergil was found by the Order of the Sword and taken to Fortuna to be used to power the nearly-complete Savior. He wakes up one day when a boy with a demon arm is captured as well and restores Yamato.The two team up as temporary allies, but when Nero is rejected by Fortuna because of the path he chose, their alliance becomes a bit more permanent. Neither has anyone else to turn to, and with similar goals, it only makes sense for the pair to travel together in search of the power they desire to protect the most important people in their lives — no matter how those people feel about them.Falling in love with each other? That wasn't part of their plan.





	1. Vergil: Nightmare's End

**Author's Note:**

> I really really wanted to explore the similarities in Vergil and Nero's character arcs. With the deliberate references in Nero's dialogue in both 4 and 5, I feel like Nero's character arc is what Vergil's _could_ have been if Vergil had had something to keep him grounded in his humanity.
> 
> So that's what this fic is: a shippy exploration of Vergil and Nero's similarities and parallels as I read each character, wrapped up in an AU where Vergil and Nero are able to meet before Dante gets involved on Fortuna.
> 
> Apologies ahead of time for short and/or inconsistent chapter length and a lack of proper update schedules.

Scenes played over and over in his mind on repeat. Nightmares, he'd call them, if they hadn't been so achingly real once upon a time. Once upon a time… a phrase normally only used in fairy tales, not in reference to his past. The memories sometimes  _felt_  like a fairy tale, though — one his mother would tell him. Of twin brothers that fought but desperately cared for each other, lost another, found, fought, and lost each other again and again, until one day one of them was forced to kill the other.

Vergil wished he'd been more invested in the lessons in those fairy tales, rather than trying to pick apart what was realistic or possible, what  _he_  might have done in those situations. Maybe things would have been different if he had. Instead, he only remembered the pain of losing Dante, his precious twin, over and over again until finally his sibling killed him.

It wasn't as though Dante had ever understood Vergil's quest for power. He'd tried saying something once, atop the Temen-ni-gru, about how he longed for the power to protect. His twin hadn't understood even when Vergil tried to explain, or maybe had misheard.

Or maybe, Vergil was bad at explaining himself.

Sometimes it felt as though this was his punishment in the afterlife, for his failure to protect Dante from the world and from himself. An endlessly repeating cycle of his own mistakes, things he could have done differently — like he was the protagonist of a classical tragedy. If he weren't the one all this had happened to, Vergil might have admired how it all played out. Instead, the literary elegance he would have seen in a book held only cold regret in the harshness of reality.

A pulse of energy reverberated through him, waking something up. The cycle of nightmarish dreams and memories he found himself unable to change or progress beyond — like some perversion of the tale of Sisyphus — abruptly ceased. Instead, he opened his eyes to blinding lights and the chill of cold metal beneath him.

Vergil took a few moments to let his eyes adjust to the bright, artificial lighting, before he started to sit up. There was some dizziness and a bit of weakness as he did so, and it was only then that he realized he was free — he did not have the constant pressure of Mundus trying to control his mind and body. No, he was entirely himself again, the skin of his arms pale but looking more human in complexion than it had been while he was corrupted. Unhealthy, but it had also been a long time since he'd seen the sun.

Belatedly, he realized that he only wore a thin pair of shorts and an undershirt, and that there were IV lines hooked up to various bags and machines. A hospital? No… No, there was too much of a demonic presence nearby, and a glance around showed vats with various demon pieces inside.

Irritated, he tore off the sensors and pulled the IV line out with a wince. His arm bled profusely for a few seconds, then healed closed. So his healing rate was back to normal…

Vergil needed to leave, before whoever had brought him here returned. He also needed to seek out Yamato, broken as she had been in the fight against Mundus. Once he found her, he would have to find a way to restore her. In the meantime, he needed a weapon.

As he stood, slightly unsteady on his feet (how long had he been kept here? what state had he been in when his captors found him?), Vergil breathed deeply and reached for his demonic powers. He wrapped them around himself, bringing the familiar weight and cut of his coat, vest, leather trousers, and boots to form. He decided, however, to keep things to black instead of his preferred blue.

He'd died. Perhaps he was in mourning for his old self, or in mourning for the relationship he'd irrevocably damaged with his twin those years ago. Either way, the new color scheme was fitting.

Speaking of years… Damn, Vergil didn't even know what year it was  _now_. Something to learn when he found his way to the outside world. There was no omnipresent smell of brimstone or the strange sense of power thrumming through the very ground, so he knew he was at least in the human world again, rather than Hell.

Small favors, perhaps.

He left the room quickly, not wanting to be there when his captors returned. That they might be someone trying to help didn't even cross his mind — no good came from helping a devil like himself, and he knew of so few humans with these kinds of resources that would be so altruistic as to simply want him better. No, they wanted to  _use_  him for something, and Vergil wasn't going to stick around and find out what.

The only real stop he made was in a lab of some kind. Yamato's power called to him from there, and a quick look at the devastation — the cuts through so many layers of the building until it went straight to the open sky high above — could only confirm that Yamato had been used here.

How had she been restored? Did his captors do this? Or, perhaps, did he have someone who might be willing to be a temporary ally? Vergil could only push on and hope to find out. With luck, the one tangible piece of his past family that he had left would be returned to him soon.


	2. Nero: Tentative Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero, meet Vergil

What the  _fuck_  was going on? Nero had been doing well about hiding his arm ever since the demon attack, but that was only two weeks ago. Someone had found out, and now the Order was fucking… chasing him or something.

He didn't know anymore, and couldn't remember the past day or two. It hurt to breathe, his right arm ached from overuse and being prodded with something, and now he was carrying an unfamiliar sword that filled him with power. Where the hell he was going at this point, Nero really wasn't sure, just following the pull of the slender blade in his right hand.

There was a telltale blue glow from his right arm, and he raised the sword he was holding in it to defend himself. The bastards in this secret part of the Order had taken his own weapons from him, this sword (Yamato, something in his mind whispered) was the only defense he had left.

What he saw was almost like looking into a mirror. Cold blue eyes looked over him, white hair slicked back out of a handsome face, and the man (Demon, his arm insisted) dressed in all black.

"That's my sword." The stranger's voice was hoarse, either from disuse or screaming and Nero couldn't tell which, but had a nasally quality that immediately grated on his nerves.

"Yeah? You can have it back when I'm done with it. Right now, I need it so I can burn this place to the ground." He remembered… Kyrie. They were holding Kyrie over him and Credo. There was no way he was letting her get hurt.

Even if it meant exile, even if it meant killing the entire Order and everyone who got in his way, he'd do  _anything_  to protect her.

Something flickered and Nero hardly had time to blink before this stranger was in his face, trying to take the sword from him by force. Demon indeed. Whatever power this  _Yamato_  had given him, it started to bleed out from Nero's entire body; and just like before, it almost felt like he was seeing things as two different people — one view from his own eyes, and another just behind him, up higher and looking down, guiding his movements.

"Curious…" the stranger muttered to himself, looking up slightly and meeting that second perspective's gaze. And then he took a couple of steps back. "Yamato was broken… some time ago, and now it seems you repaired her. I suppose, as thanks, I could allow you to use her for the purpose she responded so strongly to."

Whatever was going on in this demon's mind, he didn't seem to be an immediate threat. Maybe it was just intuition, maybe it was the sword telling him that it would be alright, but Nero wasn't particularly inclined to argue, not when the overflowing power his body could hardly contain was starting to fade already.

"Sure. Thanks, I guess. What are you doing here, anyway? When'd that Agnus nut catch you?" Most demons Nero had met were either mindless or monstrous — usually both. Whatever the Order had done to themselves wasn't natural, and neither were the things they'd created. It wouldn't surprise Nero if there  _were_  demons out there that were both smart and could take human forms. Maybe some of them even didn't mean any real harm to humans.

This demon knew the name that the sword he held was whispering in his mind, so maybe if nothing else, Nero could give this one the benefit of the doubt… until he gave any indication of being a threat.

"I don't even know where I am. The last thing I remember, I was—" Pain flickered across the stranger's face, just for a brief moment, before it settled into a neutral, almost irritated expression. "It doesn't matter. I have no recollection of where I am, how I got here or how much time has passed since then. I suggest you hurry with your business so I can resume mine."

Nero snorted, pulling the Yamato into his right arm along with several other useful items he'd gathered over the past couple of weeks. Weird how he could do that, but useful to have a sort of extra pocket for some things. "And what kind of  _business_  does a demon have in the human world?"

"I fail to see how that's any of your concern."

What a secretive, pompous asshole! Nero reached out with his right arm, and reached a little  _further_  when the demon tried to dodge just out of his way. The spectral arm that grabbed him seemed to take the guy by surprise, and Nero pulled him in close, teeth bared in a snarl that was probably more animal than human. "It's my  _concern_  when it could put someone I care about in danger! I don't care who you are, or what measures I have to take. I'll protect  _her_. Even if I have to fight the demon king himself, I'll  _find_  the power I need to do it if it means she's safe."

He wasn't sure what it was that made the demon stop fighting, look at him differently. But it did get the fucker to quiet down and not struggle, even if that look was creeping Nero out.

"It seems our end goals are not so different after all. But you have a long way to go before you can tackle Mundus. If you would be so  _kind_  as to put me down, perhaps I can show you some tricks to use."

Mundus? Was that the name demons used for the Prince of Darkness that Sparda had fought against? Still wary, Nero set this stranger down and dismissed the spectral arm that he'd been using. "Could always use some new tricks. You got a name?"

The demon hesitated, then held out his right hand. "My name is Vergil."

For a moment, he stared down at the offered hand, then took it in his own demonic one. "Nero."

Chilly blue eyes closed, and Vergil breathed out heavily through his nose. "Of course it is."

"You got a problem with my name?" His hand tightened around Vergil's, claws digging into skin and drawing beads of blood.

"Not the name so much as the memories I associate with it."

Unable to really fault Vergil that much (how many awful girls named Sophia had Nero met as a child? That name was forever ruined for him now), he eased his grip and allowed his tentative ally to let go.

"Okay. I'd like to get my own weapons back, and I'm assuming you'll want something to use in place of Yamato, so let's start with that goal in mind. Work for you?"

A light smile pulled at the corners of Vergil's mouth. "A solid enough plan to start. I don't suppose you know where those weapons are being kept?"

"Not a goddamn clue." Nero grinned a little at the exasperated noise Vergil made and chose a direction to go in. They'd either get out of this maze-like basement or they'd find weapons they could use at some point.

In the meantime, Nero was just watching his new demonic ally and trying to judge his strength. Taking Vergil off-guard with his right arm would only work once. If this guy was really strong, then Nero needed to have some kind of plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooo, if you like Vergil/Nero as a pairing, I'm running a ship week for it over on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/VerNeroWeek)


End file.
